


The Lightless Flame

by Makowo



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Arson, Body Horror, Corruption, Crying, F/M, Fire, Gore, Horror, No Spoilers for The Magnus Archives, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Horror, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural Elements, Tags May Change, The Cult of The Lightless Flame (Mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26804548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Makowo/pseuds/Makowo
Summary: What was to be a happy ending, gone up in smoke.(makoto should be dead, but instead he's so veryalive)[No need for knowledge of tma to read this fic]
Relationships: Kirigiri Kyoko & Togami Byakuya, Kirigiri Kyoko/Naegi Makoto
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	The Lightless Flame

**Author's Note:**

> WHAT'S UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> ok lemme start out by saying i am so so SO sorry to people looking forward to ATOM and Ultimate Hope, this is just a fic i had to get out of my system. and it is going to be followed by thirteen more and im so sorry. hyperfixations :p i will be working on the next chapters of both fics when i can tho!!!! do not worry they wont be abandoned  
> anyways! here is a fic that i've been really workin hard on for weeks now and i hope yall enjoy :) also yall dont gotta know shit abt the magnus archives to read this, anything that needs explaining is explained in the fic and there are no spoilers for it

Makoto’s dreams are ferocious.

He’s never exactly thought of them to be so; in fact, he’s quite sure few would ever describe their dreams as such. Oftentimes he hears people detail them are surreal, dizzying,  _ enrapturing. _ And Naegi would describe his own dreams with those words as well. But he also feels it wrong, for the content of them is more deserving of a nightmare than a dream.

They’re never the same. It’s always some new, unknown person that appears when he sleeps. Someone scared and confused and so very vulnerable. They are accompanied by others, at times. Sometimes it is just them, alone in landscapes of varying degrees of temperature. It is never cold, though. And they are never alone.

Sometimes, Makoto is allowed to speak. Sometimes, he is not. All feelings he has of these dreams are mixed, and how he feels about what he says are just as so. Rarely does he say what he wishes to, instead saying something else. Something in a sharp, hissing voice that crackles when he is forced to laugh. Each word scrounges itself from his throat, and while he knows some languages well enough, the fluency he has with Bulgarian or French or Gaelic in these dreams are not something within his own set of skills.

Naegi knows that these are not dreams. Perhaps nightmares would better suit these horrid terrors, but he cannot tell if they reside only within his mind, or hold a grip upon one’s fate. But oh, despite the answer, he simply wishes to trade places with them. To not be held back and controlled, speaking in tongues he both does and does not understand while tracing his fingers through the flames.

They are a topic all of their own, truly. The fire is always a main focus of his dreams; the only constant to link them all together, other than the people. It’s a wild thing, even Makoto - or whatever possesses him each night in these moments between full unconsciousness and waking - can hardly control it with the twists of his hands. It’s akin to conducting a chaotic orchestra, all of it aching to overwhelm all other sound to encompass the world with its presence.

Makoto cannot resist feeling joy at the sight of it. He prays it is something out of his controller, its glee leaking into his own mind each time he watches the fire make its appearance. It will at times come from the shadows, leaving it unlit despite its bright flame. Other times, it will rise over the horizon, peering over buildings and covering the sky as if it were the sun itself, coming to swallow the earth into its burning glory. In a few dreams, it would emerge from the person themself, eating them up from the inside.

In his most recent dream, that happened too. But instead, it came out of his own throat, encompassing his body in a wreath of fire. He had woken up just fine, but he swears he tasted smoke just moments after.

But he never sees the ends to these dreams. The most he gets is the sight of the person burning alive, their screams echoing off the buildings and hills and trees. They’re always so so  _ so very scared, _ in a way so tantalizing he can’t help but wish to move, if only to get a closer look instead of aiding them.

But there is no way to take it away; it is the flame that cannot be tamed by man. The bright fire that offers no warmth to any. Only its existence, in all its destructive, all-consuming glory. Unbiased in its hunger, eager to spark to life. For it rests in every flame, but this is its rawest form. An honor Naegi has been given.

He has learned of it firsthand, through all these horrid sights. That no matter if it is someone different, if it is a man or woman or child or anyone of any gender or age, no matter their doings in their lives, they will burn all the same.

And Makoto... he never will.

* * *

“In all honesty, I think it’s just from being out on the field so much.”

Makoto snaps his attention from his own wandering train of thought, sitting up straight in his chair. “Eh? You think so?”

“They’re pretty violent, right?” The psychologist hums, chewing on the end of his pen as he looks over whatever is scrawled upon his notepad. “Nightmares like that-”

“ _ Dreams. _ They’re just… just dreams.”

He pauses, then speaks with a low drawl that makes Makoto’s skin crawl with irritation. “Dreams like  _ that _ are often due to post-traumatic stress, which is probably popping up because of all the monokumas you’re having to kill. The things explode a whole lot, and with the fucked atmosphere, might be triggering those dreams. Bunch of folks report ni- dreams like that, you’re not all that different.”

Makoto pauses for a moment to process the man’s words, before sitting back, tension released with a sigh. So that’s it, huh? Just some weird dreams. That’s… he’s not sure whether he should feel comforted by that or not.

“Okay, look.” Naegi perks up once the psychologist speaks again, a hand to their face. “Can’t have the Ultimate Hope getting sleep deprived, so I’m gonna give you a couple of sleeping pills. Dunno whether or not they’ll help, but I don’t wanna be fired for being a bad worker here.” They rise from their own chair across from the table, shuffling over to the wall to the right of them. It’s lined with about ten cases of different bottles of medicines that are illuminated by the lights of the sterile white room, hardly anything there to be memorized.

Makoto watches him look over each shelf meticulously, though his own mind does not hesitate to wander. Sleeping pills might help, but he has a feeling it just won’t. This is something odd, unlike the nightmares he had during his time in Hope’s Peak Academy nor the video he was exposed to a few months before. He doesn’t wish to call it  _ supernatural; _ it’s just not the sort of thing that’ll be fixed by some pills. That’s what he thinks, at least. May as well try, right?

A bag is suddenly tossed into his lap, jolting Naegi from his thoughts. “There ya go, take one each night thirty minutes before you wanna get to sleep. Now go on, there’s plenty of other people waiting for appointments, and I know you don’t like special treatment.”

He only gives a nod, silent as he stands. “Th-thank you.” He’ll return them before he can use them all, they both know. But if he even uses a few, then surely someone will be pleased. His steps are slow as he finally leaves the room, exiting into the dull halls of Future Foundation’s seventh branch building. Or one of them, at least.

Oh, he’s rising up to become the head of it, actually. Originally he’d wanted to stay with his friends as best he could; as if he’d suddenly lose them, and he could not say goodbye if he were not there first, in the fourteenth branch. But then it became apparent that he was not suited for it, and if they were lost, then it would not matter where he was. So he’s here, helping out with finding therapy for those he can while also finding therapy for himself. Once thought to be pointless by the old leaders of the foundation, now a necessity.

“Makoto.”

The man in question perks up, green-hazel gaze settling upon the one that called his name. “Kiri?” He blinks in surprise at the sight of her, pocketing his bag of pills. “What’re you doing here? I thought you would be too busy to visit?”

She holds but a ghost of a smile, brushing a lock of lavender hair behind an ear as she lifts herself from her leaning against the wall by the door. “I have some business here, I thought it’d be alright if I dropped by to at least say hello.”

Naegi’s smile makes up for what hers lacks, taking a step closer. “Of course it’s alright!” It’s not uncommon to see workers from other branches, but it’s rare for any of his closer friends to come around. Mainly because they already have their own, perfectly sufficient therapists that are quite flexible, considering the people they’re specializing with. “How’s Togami-kun and Hagakure-kun? Heard from Asahina-san or Fukawa-san and Komaru in a while?”

“Yes, I’ve heard from everyone. They’re all okay.” She replies with a nod, looking him over without an attempt to hide it. “Togami got into a bit of a... scuffle recently, but I’ve promised to keep quiet to preserve what shreds of dignity he has remaining.”

Naegi restrains another laugh, bringing it to a hardly covered snort. Good enough. “Alright then, I’ll leave it be.” Besides, word travels quick through Future Foundation. He’ll hear about it from someone eventually. “Now, how are  _ you _ doing, Kiri?” He recalls her reacting quite unhappily when he had filed for transfer, and while they’ve already talked through that, he still worries that she has yet to quite get over it. She’s quite the grudge-holder, something he’s had to deal with before.

“I’ve been alright. Work has hardly posed a problem, though I’m more worried about you than anything else.” Her gaze flicks to the pocket of his suit, the resting place of his newly prescribed pills. “What have they given you now?”

He chuckles, pulling out the bag to show her them. “They’re to help me sleep better. I’ve been having some bad dreams for the past few weeks.”

“You sure they won’t conflict with any of your other meds?” She draws closer, eyeing the door to the psychologist’s office. Technically he’s a psychiatrist, but the different terms don’t matter anymore. They’re trained in both, and they all do the tasks of the once separate jobs well.

“I’m sure!” He again puts away the medication, beginning to walk down the hall and back to his office, Kyoko quick to follow. “I’ve been taught all this stuff too, most people that work in this branch are. These aren’t gonna be any trouble, I’m pretty sure of that.” He then sighs, stare set upon the floor. “Then again, I don’t know if they’ll even help…”

A gloved hand gently grips his shoulder, forcing his attention back to Kyoko. “I’m sure they’ll help. And if they don’t, then there must be something that-”

Her stop is sudden, expression going from that of somewhat hidden concern to full on surprise. “Um… i-is something wrong?” He gently reaches over, tapping her arm. Ah, he hopes she hadn’t just remembered something important. To waste Kyoko’s time is something he cannot fathom wishing to carry out. But he hopes it not something worse, something like-

She jerks herself away from him without warning, leaving him startled enough to stumble over his thoughts. Before he knows it, there is a hand cupping his face, and another at his forehead, the leather oddly… slick. Like with sweat? “Kiri, wha-”

“Damn it, Makoto.” She curses, a rarity that stuns him as soon as it’s pronounced. “I can literally feel your fever through my gloves, you’re burning hot.”

“Wh-what?” His panic spikes, feeling over his own skin. “I don’t… I don’t  _ feel  _ like I have a fever, or even overheated.” He feels fine, by all accounts. Shouldn’t his psychologist have noticed this?

“I’m surprised, I don’t remember you having a fever as bad as this before.” She pulls away, turning back. “You go to your room and rest, Makoto. I’ll drop by and give you some medicine.”

“B-but Kiri!” He quickly objects, looking to her with a worried gaze. “I have a ton of work to do!”

“Then put it off until you’re feeling better.”

“But-”

“Text me if you begin feeling worse.” She huffs, already walking off at a brisk pace. He frowns, putting his palm to his head. And sure enough, he feels sweat. But not the telltale heat that should come with it, which is really odd. One doesn’t spontaneously gain a fever in the span of a minute or two, nor does one have a fever that can apparently breach thick leather gloves with its heat. Not without previous symptoms; not without  _ fainting _ .

With this information however, he perfectly understands that he’ll need to rest. If he gets hit with this fullforce, then he might just collapse in the hall! Not a very comfy place for sleeping, really. So, he shuffles onward, mind drifting from the odd dreams haunting his nights, for the time being that is.

* * *

To say Naegi is doing well is a flat out lie.

This is something Kyoko knows well, despite her futility to make it not so. She has tended to him as best she can, but when she bore witness to his temperature being an unsteady 41.7 celsius, she knew this would be out of her control. But she tried anyways, doing whatever she could to try and help break his fever. At least, before any symptoms dared to appear.

Disease out here is a terrible, monstrous thing. Any venture out is a risk in many ways, as is letting anyone come back inside. Not only mental checks, but physical checks are run for every person before they re-enter any Future Foundation building, no exceptions. And while it’s all important, looking out for the newer viruses of the Tragedy are a top priority, whether they be natural or manmade.

She can only conclude that Naegi has caught one of these diseases, as his temperature just keeps  _ climbing. _ By now she’s sure it’s beyond the point of sweltering, yet… he has no signs of fatigue. Nothing other than a buildup of sweat, really. No cough, rash, or even a simple runny nose. There’s just no signs that he’s even suffering from anything, he’s even able to do his work just fine!

It’s utterly baffling, and the only reason Kyoko doubts herself sick and hallucinating this heat upon him is because of the most recent development. That being, his swift relocation to the floors of the building lying below the ground after she finally decided to let someone check on him. For as much as she craves to stay and help her friend, she cannot fall behind on her own work either.

But it still pains her to leave like this. She’ll have to be gone for a few weeks tops before being able to return. And while that’s fine on some level, and they’ll be providing those he’s closest with updates on the situation when they wish to hear of it, Kyoko is still distrustful at heart.They could very well cover up plenty of aspects of this matter as to keep people calm, and while she understands their reasoning behind this, she will do everything she can to be allowed to monitor him whenever she can.

As Kyoko makes her way towards the helicopter that will carry her back to the headquarters of her own branch however, she cannot help but dwell upon a certain aspect of this mess. While Makoto’s heat is most certainly something well known by this point, she has failed to give what exactly he said of it. His self-diagnoses, which is a tad more interesting than it sounds.

It’s mostly that he gave nothing of use, really. Perhaps by that point he was becoming delirious, as it wasn’t long before Kyoko hads to hand him off to someone else. Still, she worries that this  _ will _ be of importance, and somehow ties in a great deal to the dreams he’s been having that he’s told her of in their time together.

_ “I feel like... I’m burning on the inside.” _ He had murmured just this morning, when the moon was surely at its full height in the hidden sky and Kyoko had barely been conscious. She’d not have ever caught it were it not for her senses still being on high alert, even when dozing.

When she had prompted him to continue, Naegi was quiet for an unusually long moment then, too long for comfort. Anything more than a minute and she would have believed him asleep, and yet he laid there, eyes wide open for five minutes, Kyoko awaiting any followup in complete silence.

And finally did he speak, in a voice she’d say were ashen and an expression of terror towards something unseen.

_ “I d-don’t want to burn, but I… can’t help it.” _

Then, Naegi passed out, and Kyoko is still rattled by the event.

It’s the biggest reason as to why she passed him on to the doctors and psychologists here. They’ll know what to do, in case it gets any worse. She can only do so much before she must relent, handing him over to those that could give him proper aid. For the last thing she wishes to see him do, is succumb to whatever this may be.

Even if there are signs that he already has succumbed, in some way.

* * *

It is twenty-seven days before Kyoko is able to finally return.

It’s a bit too long for comfort - actually, it’s far too long for comfort. She had received updates on his status, which had stayed oddly the same since she had left. A constant fever and scorching hot body temperature, but no signs of fatigue, nor any other sickness. His behavior is a tad odd though, something they heavily hinted that she come to see for herself.

That’s something she’s thankful for, really. She already knows of his sickness quite personally, so to try and keep her from getting into this again is an utterly pointless endeavor. Besides, she  _ is _ the head of the 14th branch. Keeping information from the heads of the foundation,  _ especially _ after what happened during the Final Killing Game. Few of the original leaders remain, and with Munakata gone, there’s been a power vacuum just waiting to be filled. Thankfully, there’s a few temporary leaders filling in spots, but by no means are they fully qualified for the spots.

It’s a mess she puts out of her mind for now however, instead focusing on a far more pressing matter. Makoto’s health is something she’s fretted over in silence, and ever since it got out that he is indeed sick, many others have been doing the same. And while she hates that she must subject Naegi to this, she knows that his public image is essential to the well-being of many people. He’s an icon of hope, and for him to fall would mean many more people losing hope. And she knows Naegi would never want that to happen, no matter what this sickness does to him.

Unsurprisingly, Makoto is kept deep below ground. Partly out of keeping his location hidden, but also because he must be quarantined. They’d already checked Kyoko over when she left the month before, and judging by their reports, it hasn’t spread. But they can’t be so sure, with the type of sickness it might be remaining unknown due to Naegi’s heated body. So, they’ve continued to take caution, something she’s sure has upset the Ultimate Hope at least a little.

Especially with his new room being a test chamber. It was repurposed into a hospital room of sorts, lacking use previously considering they had nothing to test. Whatever it may have  _ been _ that they were testing in here is something that Kyoko is suspicious of, but she’ll question them another time. As long as they aren’t messing with Makoto down here, she’ll just put up with the explanation.

It’s a wide, spacious thing, with padded white walls and a large, one-way window positioned on a slanted ceiling, hiding a smaller room to survey the chamber. It’s a tad over the top, especially with the tables of computers strewn about the survey room, but this  _ was _ a testing chamber. Not like they plan to dismantle all this stuff when it won’t affect Makoto.

Kyoko strolls up to one of the few doctors standing at the window, glasses fogged as they stare down. She looks down as well, eyeing Naegi as he sits hunched over an oak desk placed opposite of the metal door, looking over his paperwork with an intensity unbecoming of him. It takes him a while to write down anything, whether it be his signature or a paragraph or two of information that he pulls from a computer off to the side, always done in one quick go without pause. And apparently, that’s really captivated the people present.

She turns to the doctor to her right, watching them continue to stare with unwavering intensity. It is only when Kyoko gently taps their shoulder do they finally notice her presence, their scream of terror making everyone but Makoto jump in surprise.

“K-Kirigiri-senpai!” They scramble to keep a hold upon their clipboard and pen, nearly dropping the latter before slamming both to their chest. “I’m s- _ so _ sorry, I didn’t notice you I was just monitoring Naegi-senpai and we’ve had to monitor him all  _ day _ because of what happened last night and-”

“It’s alright.” Kyoko responds sharply, stopping them in their tracks. “Just tell me what’s happened.” She’s sure Makoto would provide sympathy and take things slow, but she isn’t Makoto. Makoto is in there, and apparently something  _ weird _ happened. Certainly a big enough of a cause for concern to warrant direct attention.

They nod shakily, guiding her away from the window and to a computer nearby. “No one w-was around to see it, but it was caught on the cameras. I’d try to explain, but… it might be better for you to watch it instead.”

They politely move out of the way, letting Kyoko crouch down in front of the monitor as it loads a video. It’s only around two minutes in length and seems to just start off with Makoto writhing in his sleep. The camera must have picked up the movement at that moment, considering the abrupt start. Saves on film space, too.

Naegi’s twisting and turning goes on for almost half the video, until he suddenly freezes in place,staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes. They’re the same Kyoko recalls seeing on him a month ago, filled with that same sort of terror that she craves to keep him from feeling. He stares off at nothing, though it is not as long as his writhing was, as he slowly sits up after ten seconds and gets off the bed.

His gaze sweeps the room, still frozen in silent, barely restrained fear all the while. It’s truthfully a bit disturbing, perhaps a sort of mix of sleep paralysis and sleep walking? It’s a bit of an odd guess, but it could be true for all Kyoko knows, even if they might conflict with each other.

Naegi’s wide stare settles upon his desk, only seen in the night vision of the camera. Yet, he easily traverses the darkness, standing by its chair soon enough. Without turning on his lamp, he reaches out and grabs a paper, appearing to look it over in the pitch black darkness of the room. Perhaps a bout of deliriousness from the sickness? If so, then they’ll really need to make sure that-

For once, Kyoko can’t hide her shock. For who could, when faced with a person, someone that they’ve known for years now, having a paper burst into flames in their hands?

He’s not even  _ fazed _ either, watching it burn without panic or confusion. His once fearful expression fades, turning to relief as he sets it down on his desk, grabbing another paper. Again, it is set aflame after a moment’s time, the flames curling and twisting around his fingers. There is no smoke, no light created from its presence. Only a fire, eating the papers into nothing but ash upon his desk.

This goes on for the next half minute of the video, until the rest of the stack is cloaked in flames and Makoto is nestled in his bed, the camera feed cutting back off before the stack has even stopped burning. And if she were the more doubting type, she’d believe it edited. But there’s no reason for them to edit such things, nor anyone present with the skill to do such a thing, other than maybe Mitarai. But he’s certainly not here, not anymore.

“He’ll need to stay for some time, Kirigiri-senpai.” The scientist by her side hums after the video has long ended. “I’m sure you understand, but… perhaps you could go speak to him?”

Kyoko straightens her posture, turning to face them, expression set in a glare to hide her own terror. “Of course I can.”

They smile, though it is not truly kind. “Good! I’m sure he’d like to hear from you.” They turn, nodding the control panel at the window. “You’ll need to talk to him through the speaker. We’re being more cautious with him now, though I’m not sure he’s noticed yet.”

Kyoko nods, ice-cold as she walks to the window again. With a gentle hand that shakes ever so slightly, she presses down on the red button upon the stand of a microphone, leaning into it. Naegi perks up, likely hearing the slight static that signals the speaker’s activation. “Naegi-kun.” She says into the mic, watching for Makoto’s reaction.

His eyes light up, gaze set on the ceiling. “Kiri-san!” He shouts back, easily heard through the window. “H-how’re you doing? Is everyone alright?”

It’s almost pitiful, seeing the way he jumps at the chance to speak to someone, an excited puppy neglected for weeks on end, only his work to hold and the fiery warmth burning beneath his skin. “I’m alright, Naegi-kun.” She replies, and does not bat an eye at her own tone. That of a mother talking down to a child. “Everyone is okay, and they’re all very worried about you.”

Makoto smiles, sitting down backwards in his seat. It’s a relief Kyoko knows won’t last, and maybe he does too, with the way his hands jitter as they try to grip the chair’s back. “Good, I’m glad…” He then quiets, his smile falling within moments. “I, um… how am I doing, though? Will I b-be let out of here soon?”

It takes all of Kyoko to suppress the sigh that threatens to leave her, instead pausing to think over her words. “... No, you have to stay for a while longer.” She manages to choke out, though no one will notice her struggle. He is stammering, but still hopeful, desperate in his wish to escape these white walls that loom over him and physical contact lost to do his burning.

He doesn’t reply immediately, but the dejected expression eclipsing his hope says it all. “Ah, okay.” He sighs, not quite heard but certainly seen. “Well, um… have they at least figured out what’s happening to me?”

Kyoko cannot imagine the fear he feels. He’s told he is sick, his temperature far beyond what a normal human could normally survive at this point. Yet he only sweats on occasion, not able to recall what he did last night, judging by his demeanor. He is kept from most human contact, and all he can do is work. If Kyoko did not know of this first-hand, she’d believe it a ploy by Future Foundation to keep him as safe as possible. Their prized possession, kept under lock and key.

“Not yet, Naegi-kun. But they will soon, I promise.”

“Really?” He asks with a voice sharper than his hair. “Are you  _ sure _ they’ll find out soon?”

Kyoko glances to those by her side. They only grimace, for she has been saddled to give out the sour news and not them. Not them, who would handle this easier, if harsher than Kyoko ever could. “Yes, of course.” She finally replies, though she’s sure that Makoto’s doubt of this will far outweigh his trust in her words.

But, he has no choice, does he? He has never been the confrontational type, and as Kyoko expects, any willingness to fight leaves him with a sigh. “Okay.” He nods, eyes closed and expression pensive. “I’ll… I can wait a bit longer. Not like they can keep me here forever, right?” He murmurs, more to himself than anyone else.

“... I need to go, Naegi-kun.” Kyoko says into the mic, trying not to be fazed by Makoto’s lack of reaction. “I’ll visit as often as I can, I promise.” Even if it takes another month, she’d much rather visit than skip it in favor of continuing her work.

He nods, but does not face the window nor speaker, turning back towards his desk once the speaker shuts off. It pains her, but… perhaps she’ll be able to get Togami or Hagakure to come and comfort him as well. It’s clear that he needs someone to talk to, and at the moment, Kyoko alone will not cut it. 

She promptly turns away, gaze brought to the entrance of the vast room. “If there are any more developments, call me immediately.” If Makoto manages to recall what he did last night, then she’ll be certain to come over, no matter what she must do. For if Makoto is one of Future Foundation’s top priorities, then she is most qualified to help him, in an emotional sense. Perhaps it’s all they could possibly provide help with, considering the clear lack of progress they’ve made on figuring out what disease has latched itself onto Makoto.

“Of course, Kirigiri-senpai.” One of them replies, some watching Kyoko leave while others continue to monitor Naegi.

All of them miss the spark of flame that comes off a tap of his foot, and the flash of a smile upon his hidden face.

* * *

It is hardly a day later that the headquarters of Future Foundation’s 2nd branch is wreathed in flames.

Reportedly, a fire had begun in the very depths of it, within one of the chambers where testing of medicines was often done upon subjects, as well as the location of the Ultimate Hope at the current time. No one has been able to guess its cause, nor point to any culprit that could have conducted this atrocity.

It’s too hectic to even  _ begin _ pointing fingers right now. Not when the fire is still going, reaching into the sky in a destructive pillar.

Kyoko stares out from the helicopter flying her to the site, giving her a good look at the building. It shouldn’t even be  _ flammable, _ yet it burns anyway, uncaring for the concrete and glass it clings to.

“How long has this been going?”

"18 hours now, Kirigiri-senpai.” One of the people riding with Kyoko responds, eyes on their phone. She doesn’t even need to look, they’ve been on it for the entire time anyways. “We believe it was caused by a mishap during an experiment with creating new medicines, but…”

They can only guess. Because as it stands, headquarters has yet to receive an automated or manual S.O.S signal over the matter. Surely, the security system would have detected this fire, right? The panic over it? Someone even sneaking in and cutting its power? When that happens, there is always a message sent to all branches that its power has gone off without permission given. So, unless that somehow managed to fail to send to  _ all thirteen other branches _ , not including the numerous buildings that make them up as well, then no one has any clue to what happened and why this has gone on for as long as it has without notice.

The only reason it was even caught was because an employee was attempting to call a colleague at the building, only to find it unable to connect. It only took a brief investigation to realize the situation, and yet only the 5th branch managed to do this after eleven hours of this going on.

That doesn’t much matter now, however. What matters now is that she and the newest leader of the 2nd division have a closer look at the fire, and get a better idea of what they need to do and how to handle the media’s talk of it once the situation is done with. That’s the plan of the 14th division’s leader, that is.  _ Kyoko _ wants to figure out where Makoto is, even if that gets in the way of what she as a division leader wants.

As they near the landing pad outside the flaming building, they manage to spot a multitude of firefighters on the walkway, shooting water from the large hoses at their sides. Likely called in from the nearest city that’s managed to rebuild itself, and mattering on how far away they are, they likely will take a while to go back and forth to get fresh water, which will do nothing good.

In fact, the water doesn’t even seem to do any good on its own. As it reaches the flames, steam pelts those nearby, forcing them to back up further and further as to avoid it, surely heated far beyond what the average person could handle, even with their clothing.

“Kirigiri-senpai.” The woman by her side glances up, staring up at the building. “Do you… hear that?”

  
  
“Hm?” Kyoko follows her gaze, only managing to catch the loud crackling of the fire, as well as what she assumes is the sound of the hoses. “Do you mind describing it?”

The pair hop out of the helicopter once it finally lands, though one of them stays hesitant. It’s Kyoko, actually; while she rarely faces danger like this with fear, fire always manages to put her on edge. Whether it be a small candle or a blazing inferno such as this, she is met with a deep terror all the same.

She feels as though a similar fear is upon her companion’s complexion, hidden slightly by the glasses she bears. “I-it’s… Kirigiri-senpai, it sounds like… all those people.”

Her breath seems taken away, despite the lack of smoke and insignificant air pollution to be found here. “All of those people… Kirigiri, they’re  _ screaming.” _

Kyoko tenses, gaze drawn back to the building. Yes, what she thought was the noise of the hoses, or the water turning to steam, she was wrong about. Faintly, if one focused and strained their ears, would manage to decipher the sound. And while it is high-pitched, it is anything but even, nothing but human, muffled and hoarse as it drones on into the open air beyond the flaming walls.

It only disturbs Kyoko all the more, her gaze glued upon the entrance of the building. The longer she stares, the easier it is to see the individual flames. The way they curl and waver, as if it were an attempt at mimicking a true fire. Nothing more than a falsehood, burning the same hue all the way to its center, utterly transparent in its lie that they can do nothing about.

It’s pretty obvious by now that there’s something not right about this fire, something that the firefighters likely don’t really know. It does seem to be a fire, right? The least they can do is hope water will help, though it’s obvious there’s nothing good to come of it.

“Haruki-san.” Kyoko hums, voice not lacking in a waver. “Go and tell everyone to leave, please. They need to stop wasting water.”

  
  
“B-but, Kirigiri-senpai, what will you d-”

“Just tell them to  _ leave _ .” She turns her gaze back to the building, eyeing the windows as the flames shift and move differently from the majority. “Please.”

There is a moment of silence, then Haruki leaves, leaving Kyoko to stare at the flames. Her hands twitch, curling into fists as she struggles with her own thoughts. There’s something wrong here, so  _ horribly _ wrong, and she craves to unravel it. But something holds her back from taking a closer look, preventing her from taking a glimpse at the truth behind this flame without its warmth.

_ Fear _ is what is it that’s taken hold of her now, in this silence that crackles and roars. And she-

She sees movement in the fire. Stirring, as if summoned by her self-confession, curling in on itself in a way she could only say were pained. The very flames themselves try and try again to keep themselves up in this moment, crinkling like paper before bursting up once more, desperate for a life that doesn’t exist.

Then, Kyoko can no longer focus upon only it. As a man dressed in suit and tie stumbles from the fire, the ends of his hair singed and caked in bloody ash. The screaming suddenly seems louder, now that he’s out of the building, as if those inside were so scared and horrified by the sight of him doing so they could not help but find it within themselves to cry louder for a god to stop it.

He coughs smoke, and looks up at her with his shadow wavering wildly and sweat rolling down his dark skin, and he looks at her so  _ hungrily- _

Makoto falls, and Kyoko savors the look of his limp body, for she fears what he may be when he awakens.

* * *

“Desolation.”

That’s the first word Makoto says after he had stumbled from that flaming building, which was 27 hours ago. In that time, the fire had faded, and nothing but an ashen building was in its place. Nothing had brought it on; only an hour after Makoto left, it had died down, all on its own. Already weakening as soon as Makoto collapsed at its front doors.

And Kyoko finds herself here, sitting in a chair that’s cold and a table uncomfortably warm, the man she loves that of wax skin and green-hazel irises linked to the color of a destructive flame. He only stares at her; it is more unnerving than hearing of his previous experience with the suicide video. And now, its lone survivor is tormented by it so.

She’s unsure if this truly is that thing’s doing. There are nothing but guesses, as they know too little to properly muse over whether it’s right or not. Everyone knows that’s wrong, but they must have something to cling to. Something to go off of so that they may lie to the rest of the human race about his condition, and desperately attempt to keep together a crumbling hope.

“Kyoko?” Makoto hums, his voice holding a slight raspiness as he speaks.

She hums, brushing aside her momentary silence. Apologies, I was just thinking about something.”

“What is it?” He asks, and it is filled with an innocence she fears to believe in.

“Nothing.” She replies, then quickly follows it up. “What is it that you mean by ‘desolation?’”

He frowns, gaze cast away as he speaks softly. “I, um.” He taps his fingers against the table, and Kyoko remembers to take her papers off it before they may cook. “I-I don’t… know? Just, um, what I felt earlier.” His eyes narrow, a ghost of a positive emotion flickering onto his face. “Desolation…”

The room is well lit, yet Kyoko feels like she’s being watched by something unseen anyways, beyond the agents and researchers standing behind the window of the testing chamber turned bedroom for the Ultimate Hope. Whatever has become of him, it’s clear they’ll need to watch him. It’d be idiotic of them not to, after what happened to one of the buildings of the 7th branch.

At the moment, he’s been relocated to the 5th Division, though if they have no way of aiding him, it’s likely they’ll relocate him to the 6th Division, a branch Kyoko has herself wished to move to for some time. Perhaps she’ll be able to hand off the job of being the Head of the 14th Division at some point, but she doubts she’ll wish to stay at all by that point. If Makoto is okay by then, that is.

“So, not despair then?”

I don’t… think so, no.” He shakes his head, dragging an ashen nail over the smooth metal, creating a slight indent she hopes is a trick of the light. “It’s close, but, ah, it’s not that.”

“Then what  _ is it?” _ She asks with venom, making him flinch. “I need to know, Naegi-kun. If I don’t, then no one can help you.”

He is silent for a fleeting moment, as if mulling over his choices. But, he has no choice, does he? He needs help, and to get help, he needs to explain things clearly and concisely. And now that he’s finally bothering to speak, they need to get this out of him as soon as possible. Before another fire can happen, and burn this place to the ground too.

“It’s… really hard to explain, Kyoko.” Sweat again forms upon his brow, his grip upon the table’s edge tightening. “I know it, but it’s like all the information is muddled. Every time I want to talk about it, it just…” He makes a strangled sound, flicking his hand. “Makes my thoughts go up in smoke.”

He says it with a waver in his voice, and he’s not sure whether it is out of terror of this fact, or excitement.

Kyoko exhales sharply, writing down only  _ “Subject denies being in despair, instead felt ‘desolation.’ Meaning behind this unspecified.” _ That’s all she can put, really; desolation is something he could possibly feel, but it’s clear it’s not just a feeling to him. Something more than that. Something he felt during that fire that left him untouched, something that changed part of him.

She isn’t totally sure what’s happened to him, but it’s not good. Not at all.

“Is there anything you can explain to me then? The cause of the fire, the method of your escape, maybe even why the security system had stopped working for the building?” There must be something he knows about this, right? “You are the fire’s sole survivor, and we need to know everything we can to protect against another incident like this.”

The man across from her swallows, fingers drumming the table between them. “I, um…” He is plagued by a shake she’d only see of the coldest chill, and he manages to find words once more. “I really don’t know, Kyoko.”

“You’re lying.”

He snaps to attention, eyes wide. His mouth opens, but he has nothing to retort with. They both know that. “Naegi-kun.” She stands up, a hand planted firm on the warm table. “Just tell me what it is that you know. Please.” To be brought to pleading is not something she favors, but Makoto will crumble at that. If she is to sacrifice the slightest bit of dignity to get answers, then so be it.

This time, to her surprise, he does not falter. As if the words had been on the tip of his tongue, ready to be said at any time, he blurts out what she wants.

“I... saw something in there.” He replies sharply, fingers digging at the table. “And it wanted me. It wanted me so,  _ so _ badly.” With each word his voice grows more hushed, a fear hidden in his fiery eyes. As if he were a child, speaking of something an adult told him to keep secret. “They all did.”

Kyoko stares down, unflinching. “And who were they? Who was it that wanted you?”

Kyoko used to adore Makoto’s laughter. But now, hearing what comes out of him, as if he were choking on a thick smoke, she is not sure she could ever listen to the innocent chuckles she’s used to and not hear his quiet, maddened cackling beneath it. “The  _ fire, _ Kyoko. You saw it, right? You had to have, only people like you could!” He smiles, yet sweat still rolls down his skin, perhaps claimed by fear still. “You saw their shadows, didn’t you? You saw the flames, didn’t you? You saw everything, so you  _ have _ to know what wanted me.”

“I… don’t think I do.”

“Your fear knows.” He says just as she is done replying, ignorant of her unease. “Some part of you does, as that’s what it comes from. That’s how it came to be for me, so that it could come and get me. So that those burning couldn’t ever let go of me.” Naegi smiles, joyless. “It couldn’t get me, though. Not this time.” It’s then tinged with something bittersweet, a grin kept despite tears brimming at his eyes. “But I... don’t know if I’ll escape it next time.”

For a moment, Kyoko almost dares to go and comfort him. But it is beyond her abilities now. “We will attempt to make sure no more harm can come to you, then.” She sighs, jotting another summary of his speakings onto the paper in her grasp before turning away. “That’ll be all for today. I’ll come back next week.”

There are thirteen seconds of silence before she reaches the door, and before Makoto finally says something. “Kyoko…” He starts, and his voice  _ wavers. _ “Am I… is there something wrong with me?”

Kyoko’s pause is fleeting, but palpable. She knows this is not a question to be taken lightly, after all. But… she cannot revoke the answer that has been between them both all this time. Between her, and whatever has made a table begin to melt with fingers alone.

She abhors the loud slam of the metal door, but it is better than hearing whatever Makoto’s reaction is to her non-existent words.

* * *

Kyoko will not dare to act surprised anymore.

The moment she had witnessed the flames of the 7th Division building a week ago, she knew what she was facing was beyond comprehension. To think that she could bring an answer to what was before her was, well, impossible. But now, she has access to some information. Useless to some, but now priceless in its presence. And it all originated from an archive.

In this book, so tidy in everything from its inked writing to its binding, yet one would think it all the words of someone mad. Credit given to a person that apparently died years before this was made, and the writer himself apparently having disappeared into Scotland with his husband sometime before The Tragedy struck. Clearly however, this was written after such an apocalyptic event, as detailed in the finishing date scrawled into the book’s second page. Perhaps she should attempt to track him down and prompt some questions about the book’s contents.

It appears that what’s here is it however, and she knows Future Foundation cannot afford to expend such resources at the moment. She’d be better off taking what she can gather from this surprisingly small book than hunting down a man that very well may be dead by now, and certainly avoid attempting to figure out just who this “Gerry” is.

It’s certainly dusty; a testament to the care rarely put into books like this. But she’s glad it’s here at all. If not, then her search for answers would last months longer. Only three days were spent. Three valuable, precious days that draw closer to whatever Makoto may do next to those around him. As much as Kyoko wishes to believe he’d never harm a soul, the hundred souls screaming in that ancient inferno are hardly proof of innocence.

Sixteen chapters greet her at the table of contents, with categories such as “Rituals” and “Diet”, the only expectations being two chapters named “Avatars” and “Artifacts” at the very top of the list. She feels her interests lie in the other fourteen chapters however, so she sticks only to them, looking over the long list with a narrowed gaze.

Beholding, Stranger, Hunt... leading down to Desolation. The sight of it strikes a chord within her, Makoto’s words haunting the Ex-Detective’s thoughts. While it may be a coincidence that there’d be a whole chapter dedicated to something called Desolation in a book that may or may not be pure fiction, that  _ also _ happens to relate to Makoto’s ramblings, there’s no harm in taking a look.

And quite the look it is. At the very start she’s met with illustrations and pictures, that of flames, broken pieces of concrete partially melted, and a general abundance of destruction. Somehow, the author managed to make it look tidy enough to read without the reader contracting a headache, even with their less than casual wording. If Kyoko knew better, she’d believe this to truly be just some guide for a fictional world featured in other books.

But no, there’s nothing this connects to. It’s all told as real, with real accounts, some even credited with names she recognizes from cases she’d gotten into before all of this. Colleagues to criminals, all of them witnessing an accursed destruction. It disturbs her, such accounts of reflections that burn in clear water and scorched clouds that fill their sight, but she must push on. Who else will take the risk to believe this, to gain answers?

It is enlightening, at least; something about it being an entity, alongside the other thirteen present in the book. A god of sorts, feeding off the fear of humans that it represents. The Desolation in question leeches off of destruction, pain, loss, and the like. It prefers to manifest in flames, and while other avatars may differ, the author mentions that a cult had close ties to it, and is apparently affiliated with the multitude of statements presented in the book. Kyoko must briefly consider Makoto to perhaps have ties to this cult, but such a theory falls apart when it is mentioned that they cannot create flames, only incredible heat, with skin that of wax, like a living candle, undying.

It astonishes Kyoko that Makoto of all people would be chosen by this being to carry out the role of an avatar; judging by a quick glance at the chapter about them, it seems they’re something exceedingly rare, even when it appears there’s something human at play. Only if they can think for themselves and are able to concisely explain their reasoning for coming to serve such things can they possibly be human, and that is something that hardly ever happens. It is no comfort to see the exception being those of The Spiral, something she hardly plans to look more into.

It offers no answers as to why Makoto was chosen, however. She can’t wrap her head around it. He’s so very kind, and she’s never witnessed a fleeting moment that he wished to bring harm to another in her five years of being within his presence. If he were ever to feel distraught enough to hurt someone, it’d surely be something everyone would know of. So whatever happened to draw this entity’s attention to Makoto specifically, it must either be an aspect of him she can’t possibly know of, or it simply needed someone. It doesn’t seem like there’s anyone left to even pay attention to The Desolation necessarily, even if there’s hundreds of thousands of people ready to cause destruction for the sake of destruction.

There’s been no one to feed it. It can only feed off of those with a sound mind, those that can feel terror for its presence.

And who better to slowly leech off of until the world has become better than Future Foundation? Who better to choose to carry out this task, than the very person they’d fear ever going against them?

* * *

Naegi has opted to escape.

It’s understandable. He’s been trapped in a pure white chamber for weeks now; why wouldn’t he crave to escape such solitude? He’s always had trouble with that, ever since he got out of Hope’s Peak. To be kept in one place too often, confined to a single spot, a single building, for more than a few weeks? He grows restless, and what once could be sated by missions that sent him out and about, no longer are able to present themselves.

He was alone, with that  _ thing _ inside him, and everyone shall now pay for her actions.

Perhaps it was unavoidable, actually. Kyoko doesn’t want it to be her fault. She doesn’t wish that her mistrust of Makoto when he needed her is to be everyone’s undoing. But if she wishes to actually heed the information she’s gathered, it’d be a terrible idea to try and stay close to someone growing more and more unhinged.

That’s prominent now, when Kyoko is watching the silent footage of Makoto’s escape on her phone. Studying how he wakes up with eyes brighter than anything in the dark room. Taking note of how he slips out of bed and rises to his feet, ignorant to the speaker questioning his actions. Committing to memory the way he grips the blanket he’d been sleeping beneath in peaceful bliss mere seconds before, setting it ablaze in a flame that licks and curls at his fingers, as if it were a dog greeting its owner.

_ Watching _ as he turns, grabs the face of the security guard coming in to subdue him, and melts it into nothing but a fleshy wax to add to his own burning candle.

Kyoko watches it over, and over, and  _ over _ until she’s sick of watching him. Until she’s sick of the knowledge she’s been given, small as it is.

She’s sick of knowing so much, but there’s no way of spitting back up the information she’s helped herself to. It is the price she pays for hunting it down, she supposes.

Once her phone has grown empty of power, she looks out of the helicopter she stands in. This time, it’s just her and the pilot; there is no one else that would dare near this blazing city, once alive with people, barren of anything but despair, then alive again. But now, it is a feast for flames, the screams of souls that had been taken into the sea of orange and red indiscernible from the crackles and hisses below.

No one has the slightest chance of finding Makoto in this madness, but Kyoko knows he’s there. She knows very, very well.

It’s entirely why she pays no heed to the vehicle’s pilot, and blocks out his alarmed cry and swerve when she stumbles out into the smoke-filled air.

Unconsciousness is a fleeting thing, but a solace from the fiery air she’s forced to take in. If she were less knowing, she’d have thought that her body was already crumbling to ash, the smoke cloaking her vision and enveloping her body so that it too can never be seen again.

Instead, Kyoko’s mind is gone for a brief moment, then back once she’s on solid ground, away from the freefall that had brought thoughts of the Vast to mind, another entity mentioned in that wretched book. The book that, while it didn’t lead to all of this, it shall lead to the moment she’s sure not to find good.

“Kyoko.”

There’s no need for Kyoko to look, and no need for Kyoko to See. She already knows it’s him, leaned against the wall that crumbles - no,  _ melts _ in his presence, unable to stand against the flames that are only ever starving. He constantly sweats, but his grin would say it to be out of joy. So excited, his very skin rolls down his body, no blood to be found beneath. Only more skin, more  _ wax _ to fuel it all.

“You’ll burn, you know.” He chuckles, and the flames laugh with him. “They want you so  _ badly _ , you have to hear them!”   
  


She does. She hears them well.

“... Are you just gonna lay there?” He frowns, walking over and crouching down, beginning to force her up from the ashen floor. Kyoko has no need for help though, for as soon as she’s touched, she recoils, her own skin sizzling as she scrambles to her feet in a panic.

Kyoko looks over at Makoto, taking deep gulps of smoke-filled air. She feels it claw at her lungs, but not hurt it; a key detail that while hardly exploitable, is certainly worth noting. There’s little worth in any knowledge she can gather from Makoto now, but there’s nothing she can do to stop herself from drinking it in.

Naegi himself seems to notice this, the twisted red of his irises lighting up in excitement. “You… you’re an avatar of The Beholder, aren’t you?” He has no expectations for her to reply, judging by his amused smile. “That makes things easier,  _ doesn’t it?” _ The inferno flares as his excitement grows, making the small clearing Kyoko has away from its clutches smaller and smaller.

“M-Makoto!” Kyoko shouts with a slight stammer, taking precious time to swallow it down before continuing. “What are you doing?! Do you know how many people you have hurt? How many more are still suffering?!”

The man jolts, eyes widening in surprise while the flames stop their approach towards her. “Yes. Yes, I do know.” He gasps out, nearly coughing from the force. “I know all of them, and I know that every single one of them are terrified!” He finally returns to smiling, a wheeze of a chuckle spilling from the former Ultimate Hope. “I’m simply feeding myself and my starved patron, can you not see that? Or is The Beholding really disrespecting you so much that it won’t offer you its power yet? Other than the power to force an answer out of me, how shameful of you~” He purrs, stepping closer.

Kyoko huffs, forcing herself to stand her ground. “Tell me at least what changed. Why The Desolation chose you of all people.” She has still only been an avatar for a very short amount of time, so she cannot pluck information right from people’s minds, or send fear into them with her stare alone, like others. She only has words, and a need to offer up something to the entity that looks through her before something inevitably caves; whether it be herself, or the building’s ceiling.

“It needed someone, didn’t it?” He shoots her a lazy grin, leaning against a half-melted pile of concrete. “I’ve seen enough destruction due to The Tragedy to fit the bill, I guess. Besides, it’s not like anyone in despair could carry the job out.” He curls a wisp of smoke around his fingers, the dark tendril sharp enough to cut flesh. “The Ultimate Hope doing something like this shall create more fear than any other could. Hell, I may even be able to complete a ritual and solidify The Desolation’s claim over the earth.”

“As if I’d let you.” Kyoko fights against the urge to close her eyes when faced with the creeping flames around them, claws lacking their sheathes. 

“But you might!” He replies with only cheer in his voice, hands clasped together. “You hunger for knowledge now. Your curiosity will be the death of everyone, and you won’t ever be able to control that.”

Kyoko stares for a few moments, letting the silence between them stagnate. “... How do you know all of this?” Realization is slow to come, but when it does, it crashes over Kyoko in a wave of dread and nausea. “Is there someone that helped you do this? Makoto, pleas-”

_ “Stop asking questions.” _ Naegi snarls, Kyoko unable to help but watch as his nails dig into his skin, easily caving with a softness not unlike that of a rotting fruit. He shakes with a useless struggle; it is over in hardly a second, the contents of his mind spilling out for her to pick at with regret. “We- I-  _ Yes. _ Yes, it was-”

Again, Makoto is trembling. She can taste his hatred for this in the air, and yet, there’s laughter to accompany the crackling, the flames waving left and right just as Makoto does in his struggle to stay upright, one hand clutching his head and the other basks in the flames.

“It was… the… them.” He swallows, and appears surprised that he managed to speak at all. “The cult, I’m sure you know of them. You do, right?” His stare flits to her, wide and unwilling.

“Of course.” Kyoko crosses her arms, making an effort to keep her gloved hands hidden from the fire that threatens to strip them away. “But from what I can tell, they’re all dead and gone. Are you saying there’s more of them?”

The flames lick at Makoto’s clothes, nudging against the palm of his raised hand. “Kind of. I thought you’d catch on, but you haven’t been like this for long.” He sighs, smiling when the telltale bang of part of the building’s ceiling falling echos out. “The cult had tried to bring about their ritual, The Scorched Earth, once. One of them birthed a child in flames, to be what they hoped would become their personal messiah, and bring about their hope.”

Kyoko’s eyes widen, connecting the dots before Makoto can even continue. “So then, you’re… you’re that child?” She shudders at the thought; all this time, she’s been trusting something that was born to bring about the destruction of the  _ world- _

‘No!” Naegi shouts, the fire spiking up in a mix of surprise and aggression. “She died a few years ago, and her spark returned to the flame. I’m not at all related, just someone that was chosen for reasons they don’t wish to share.” His mood seems to sour, expression dejected. “I’m not sure if they even can choose, anymore…”

“Are you saddened by this?” Kyoko asks tentatively, the hope that he’ll somehow pull through this haze and come back to her rising to the surface.

“I’m only sad that I can’t join them soon enough.”

The smoke is trying to burn her lungs. Before it was teasing, a sting that brought just a taste of what’s to come. But now, it  _ wants her. _ It lurks at her ankles, kicking up smoke in a barely held frenzy that Kyoko won’t be able to escape. A single sudden move, the very first sign that she might try and run, and it’ll take her in moments.

The fire isn’t even near them, yet it feels like her flesh is peeling away all over again.

“Do you want to die, Kyoko?”

She snaps her gaze up, and there he is, mere inches from her face. He grins, only malice to greet her. “Well?” He prompts another time, a teasing tone leaking into his voice. “Do you?”

Everything around them is melting. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, and so much beyond it. An entire city, while not inhabited properly, still tragically up in flames. Still screaming as they too melt, no match for what can eat the thickest of metals and the hardiest of wills that it can eat in moments. Or minutes. Or hours, or days, or weeks or months or  _ years. _ Because it never eats the soul, it never eats what once can see; only what they can ever know. What keeps a human alive through action, will keep gods and their disciples fed for another day through stasis.

“No.” Kyoko finally utters, her breath taken by force as a piece of the ceiling just narrowly misses her in its slow dribble onto the floor, pooling at her feet.

“You don’t have to.” He replies quickly, as if this were something he’d rehearsed hours before her arrival. “You could… you know…” His hand grazes her hand; it’s charred. “Stay.”

‘That’s a fate worse than death’ is Kyoko’s immediate thought when presented with such a proposition. The very  _ idea _ of joining him sickens her, something he seems to pick up on quickly. “What if you stayed with me instead?” She asks in retaliation, her standing clear.

Rather than the sharp refusal of her answer she expects, he gains a solid grip on her hand, the smoke produced by their connection wafting up into the air mingling with the rest that pools against the tattered melting ceiling. “I don’t want you to die, Kyoko. You ignored me when I needed you, but I… I understand that. It would’ve been useless, actually.” He can’t even cry; of all the time he has buried it in the past, now he cannot even attempt to let out the emotions he’s bottled up. “It was going to end this way, and the only thing that would change is that I’d only feel more bitter over it.”

A searing pain wraps itself around her ankle, so sudden Kyoko can’t help but scream. She’s torn away from her spot in a single vicious motion, the inferno itself dragging her away. “Makoto!” She screams, fighting down bile as black spots begin to litter her vision, an attempt at mercy that will never arrive. She desperately claws at the floor, her hands further maimed by the molten concrete that covers much of it, denying her any grip. “S-st-op-!” Rough coughs erupt from her throat, halting any words she would have tried to plead with. There were none left, anyway.

“You don’t belong here, I-I think.” Makoto hums, ignorant to the ex-detective now being dangled in the air. “The flames wouldn’t think you’re very… interesting. Suppose that’s just it then.” He turns to look at her, green-red eyes looking on with fondness, overlaid with a haziness she can only guess is his fight to not let her burn to death right here and now.

“No, n-no.” Kyoko hisses out, reaching out towards him, and oh _god_ _her gloves are melting to her skin-_ “Don’t leave. You can’t, you _can’t._ Not- not after all of this shit. You can’t, you can’t please please _please don’t.”_

The hurried, anguished hisses spilling out of her are useless, not that it doesn’t affect him. “I…” Makoto’s eyes narrow with discomfort, a hand raised to his lips. Maybe an attempt to keep himself from vomiting as Kyoko’s fear is basked in.

“It’s not your fault.”

Kyoko’s vision blurs; the world is spinning with bright oranges and deep blacks, the latter only smoke before it transitions to concrete.Concrete that’s broken and worn, making her landing anything but soft as her body rolls to a stop in the middle of the road, covered in blood and melted skin from the lives trapped within the bonfire. And there, in her last few seconds of consciousness, perhaps even her last, Kyoko looks up at the sky.

There’s-

* * *

A hospital room.

That is what Kyoko wakes up to. Not the bright destructive fires that left smoke to fester in her lungs, nor the dark void of the sky, spiraling around her vision in a lucid dance with the black spots of unconsciousness. Kyoko knows it smells of something sharp and pungent, associable only with a hospital. But she can only Know; her sense of smell is only that of smoke now.

“Don’t move.” A voice as sharp as an ice crystal chimes in from her right, interrupting the gentle tap of a foot. “How do you feel?” The question is more of a command, one that Kyoko bothers to respond to for once.

  
  
“I should be dead.”

Byakuya sneers, circling around to look down at her. “Well, you aren’t.  _ Somehow.” _ He grabs the armchair by the left of her bed, dragging it closer to the bed’s edge and sitting down. “Might I ask why in the  _ hell _ you thought it might be a good idea to fall into a burning city from five hundred feet in the air? Or did you really want to kill yourself?” his entire demeanor reeks of irritability(there’s worry in there too, a terribly tragic thing to feel). 

She huffs, and attempts to get up. There is only pain to greet her, sharp and vicious and rousing of memories that she’s far too tired to cry over. Only a hiss to offer, and a small amount of fear to be reaped by a higher power. Judging by the bandages and stinging pain slithering along her skin, a variety of burns litter her body, third degree clearly where the fire had grabbed her to toss her away from its center, with second and first degree burns littering her body haphazardly.

“I told you not to move.” The ex-heir looks on with pity, and she could not have missed him less. “That’s what happens when you jump out of a  _ flying helicopter _ , into a  _ burning building-” _

“I needed to talk to him, Togami.” She practically snarls, her gaze piercing him in a fleeting moment of fury. Kyoko abhors her new power, but at least they provide aid in keeping his mouth shut. “It was important.”

It is a long, long time before she looks away, her stare drawn to the window. She cannot guess how far away they are from the flames; they may come upon them soon, but the sky is always red, clouds thick and smothering. She’d believe them full of blood, if she were less rational. They hold no way of giving a clue as to how close the flames may be. And if they are able to be seen upon the horizon, then it is already too late to run.

The silence they sit in seems to last forever, deafening in its presence. It is only broken by a soft sigh, and not from Kyoko. “Was it worth it, then?” He murmurs, then pauses again. Then lets it stagnate, then stops entirely. No more berating, no more insults. Simply a question, far more effective in its intimidation than any additions.

“... I…”

A tear, sliding down her cheek and slipping past a bandage, irritating the permanent scar of a burn beneath.

“I don’t…”

Kyoko can’t manage the rest of her answer. Not before she’s forced to bury her face in her bandaged hands, barely hiding refreshed burns that mark her last meeting with Naegi Makoto.

She doesn’t need to look back up to know there’s fire on the horizon.

**Author's Note:**

> *adds in non-binary side character* *adds in non-binary side character* *adds in non-binary side character* *adds in non-bina  
> anyways!!!! i hope yall liked this bcs it's gonna be part of a series of fourteen total works, each focusing on a different entity from tma! i think it'll be a really fun experience, and help hone my skills with writing horror, as well as writing in general.


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